Drabbles
by Yvanna Irie
Summary: 300-600 word long drabbles. I'm venting my creativity. Mostly mild Zo/San. Don't own anything relating to One Piece, I swear!
1. Violence

The foot smashed into Zoro's broken ribs with a little more force than normally, knocking not only the wind out of him, but sending him backwards straight into the opposing wall.

"_That's_ for being an unreliable asshole and leaving Nami-swan and Robin-chwan in trouble!"

The second kick landed maybe three inches left of his head. Zoro snarled and rolled out of the way, trying to grab a katana for protection when the heel of a black leather shoe landed square on the back of his hand, not hard enough to break anything, but still painful.

"What the hell is your problem, cook?" Zoro snarled and pulled his hand back, but he never got an answer as Sanji's other foot shot up and connected with Zoro's chin, sending the swordsman backwards to the deck.

And before he could once again make any sense of what was going on, why was Sanji beating the shit out of him right after a long and stressful fight with another pirate crew, and why the hell was he just _letting_ the damned cook do it, Sanji was suddenly straddling him, grabbing the collar of his shirt and giving him a face full of surprisingly solid fist.

"_That's_ for being a fucking incompetent bastard and making everyone worry so much!"

Sanji shoved Zoro's shoulders against the deck so hard Zoro banged his head against the planks. Sanji would pay, Zoro decided as his head spun unpleasantly, both from the all-blurring pain and the double-concussion he had just recieved, he would fucking _make_ Sanji pay –

Sanji grabbed the front of his shirt again and yanked Zoro up and back into the moment. "And this is for almost getting your sorry ass _killed_, you inconsiderate fucker!"

Sanji's lips slammed against Zoro's, making the now _very_ flustered swordsman gasp, eyes flying open and setting permanently to the size of dinner plates.

Five seconds later Sanji let go of Zoro's shirt and quite unceremoniously dropped Zoro's head and shoulders back on the deck. He scoffed when getting up. "Don't you dare think you're forgiven with this, fuckhead", the cook snarled, looking down to Zoro, who looked comically shocked with his eyes still wide and mouth slightly ajar. "I'm gonna make you pay for your ineptitude, you fucking marimo. Now get up and limp your way to Chopper, because you ain't getting any food before you're patched up!"

With another scoff Sanji marched off, back to the galley, leaving Zoro to try to figure out just exactly what the hell had happened. And when the galley door snapped shut behind him, the situation dawned to Sanji also, and he had to step back and lean against the door, as all blood from his legs rushed to his head, tainting his cheeks a bright, burning red.

But never mind the embarrassment, because Sanji's hand shot up unwillingly and his fingers brushed questioningly over his lips. They tingled just slightly as he revised what had just happened, and he couldn't help the radiant smile that bloomed on his face.


	2. It's a shame

It's a shame, really.

They're at it again. Zoro and Sanji are fighting. Not that there's something unusual about this. At first I was surprised by the way they always seem to find something to argue about, and eventually turn into a fight. You'd think that even the most ingenious would run out of excuses after all these months, but they certainly haven't. No, if something, they seem to create completely _new_ reasons for these matches, no matter how ludicrous they might be.

It's truly a shame.

I now know why they fight here, on the aft deck, instead of the more spacious main deck. It's because of the privacy. It must get annoying to get interrupted so many times. I admire them for not giving up yet, for looking for solutions. Then again, it makes their fights all the more interesting to watch when they are short of time and they know it. Then, they fight as if their life depended on it: not slacking a bit, not yielding an inch.

What a shame.

I don't really know what they're fighting about this time. What I can tell from my lookout it's Sanji's turn to be the offensive one. It's admirable, the way he fights. His kicks look so graceful, so natural, even though he must have trained for hundreds of hours. Still, he carries all his strength effortlessly, almost as if it wasn't even there. It's so very deceptive, yet so intriguing.

A real shame it is.

Zoro is Sanji's polar opposite. He's so proud of his training, so confident of his abilities it's almost frightful. But on the other hand, he has all the right to be so, after all the work and time he has put into it all. Even now, when all he really does is dodge or block Sanji's attacks, his strength and skill undeniable. Every swing of a blade seems calculated, every step and tilt and shift seamlessly fitting the whole.

It's such a shame.

What I admire most isn't their skills as individuals, though. It's the way they meld together, their attacks in perfect synchronization, flowing effortlessly and seamlessly from move to move. It's hypnotic, like a well-coordinated dance more than a real fight. It's almost as if they could read each other's thoughts, and in a certain level, I think they do. How else would they be able to avoid hurting each other?

It's a shame.

These matches aren't about something as simple as defeating the opponent. It was easy to miss, but after long examination, I finally noticed it; the simple underlying truth of their battles. The reason Sanji's kicks are always just a quarter-inch off, why Zoro's blades are always just slightly off the optimal cutting angle.

It truly is a shame I seem to be the only one seeing this.

And more than anything, when Nami finally steps in and interrupts their brawl, I see the truth in the look they give each other when Nami is not looking. Even when they finally realize they're doing it again, and Sanji rushes off to cook and Zoro rushes off to train, and both of them have that same embarrassed but not displeased expression on their faces, it's still plain clear to me.

It's a shame, really, that neither of them sees it yet. But I'm sure it will be interesting when they finally do.

I expect I won't be running out of things to observe until then.


	3. On the subject of addictions

Sanji flicked his lighter on. He let it burn slightly longer than usually just to be sure the cigarette would light properly, and inhaled the sweet poison for the first time in weeks. Plucking the cigarette to his hand, he let the out a long-suffering sigh. Leaning against the railing, he lifted the smoke shoulder-height, and watched it slowly burn away.

"At last, my arm is complete again", he muttered with a part-way grin.

On the level below, Zoro snorted.

Sanji leaned backwards over the railing, until he was almost hanging upside down, and turned his head just enough to glare at the swordsman. "Got a problem, shithead?"

"None at all", was the unmistakably amused reply.

"Yes you _do_. Now what is it?"

"You're pathetic, cook."

Sanji flipped himself over the railing, landing feet first, and moved the fresh cigarette from his hand to between his teeth before turning to Zoro, hands crossed. "I'll be taking none more of that bullshit, marimo", he said, summoning the most threatening voice he had.

Naturally, it had no effect on Zoro, at all. The swordsman snorted again and cracked an eye open to show Sanji just _how_ amused he was. "You wanted to know what my problem was, and I just told you."

"Fuck you! What the hell did I do this time, huh?"

This time Zoro actually got around to opening _both_ of his eyes and actually meeting Sanji's stifling glare. "If being a bit of an addict is pathetic", he said, "then you're a downright miserable junkie."

"I'm not an addict."

"Oh yeah? You couldn't go for three days without a smoke, let alone a week."

Sanji ground the cigarette to mesh, but kept his cool. "Need I remind you that _this_" he pointed at the already half-burnt smoke, "is my first one in exactly three _weeks_? Is your memory really that short or are your brains just too small to process it?"

Zoro snorted again: it was starting to get on Sanji's nerves, actually. "You would've lost it if I hadn't been there to keep you occupied."

"Fuck you", Sanji repeated. "I don't need your help with anything. _Least_ of all my addictions."

"Well not obviously not _anymore_." Zoro closed his eyes again, grin widening into an evil smirk. "You weren't so picky last night, though."

"What the…" Sanji could feel heat gathering to his cheeks. "Shut up. Pervert."

"I didn't say anything."

"I, um…" Feeling horribly like being defeated, Sanji spun around and snorted, back turned to Zoro. "Che. Just shut up. You're an idiot."

"Sure."

Zoro's nonchalant behavior was really wearing on Sanji and he decided it was better to relocate himself somewhere away from the grass-headed shit-for-brains swords-bastard. heading for the stairs, he could hear just the slightest snigger coming from Zoro as he passed him.

"Junkie."

"Fuck you", Sanji retorted.

"I'd love to."

"Pervert."

"And you aren't?"

Already at the top of the stairs, Sanji paused his, stomping off, thenleaned over the railing and snorted at the green head below him. "Well… At least I'm not the one who's _green_ with jealousy, because they're not getting the attention they want."

"Fuck off, cook."

Sanji smirked and walked back to the galley, his bad mood miraculously gone.


	4. Delights of winter AU

Sanji really liked skiing holidays.

There was something great about waking up in the morning and realizing that it was sunny outside and he had a day off and then an hour later sitting in a car arguing with Zoro about what music they'd listen to. Not to mention actually arriving to the skiing centre, picking up the keys for the reserved lodge and finally, after more bickering, getting to the slope.

Skiing itself was always great fun too. The blinding white snow always looked so inviting riding up the ski-lift. The long ride up to the peak of the mountain was always well used in warming up and stretching, ready bounce straight into the slope the second the lift reached the top. At this point all their will to argue had gone, though there was a certain playful feeling of competition in the air again.

This was only confirmed, when Zoro would after the first two runs turn to Sanji, smirking, and bet him a kiss he'd be the faster one to the bottom. Which Sanji of _course_ would counter-challenge with a full week of housework (he'd get enough kisses anyway) and they'd end up going off marked slopes in a furious attempt to beat each other.

Sometimes they could beat one another in a fair trial. More than often they ended up trying to trip or push each other over. Most of the time both of them ended up crashing and rolling in the snow laughing and growling insults at each other until actually remembering the competition and diving to get their skis. Every time they would end up arguing over the winner.

But the best part of days like that, in Sanji's honest opinion, was the after-ski. After they would finally get themselves back to the skiing centre, snowy and weathered and tired, they'd head for the café. Sanji would always make fun of Zoro ordering hot chocolate until he'd accidentally take a sip too big and burn his mouth, his face twisting in an adorably annoyed expression, which Sanji would proceed to kiss away. And their endless argument over the winner would be totally forgotten, as Sanji would anyway be the one cooking and Zoro the one doing the dishes.

In the evenings, after a few unreasonable rounds down the mountainside and a stifling hot shower, they would lay on the rug in front of the fireplace, even more tired than before, quietly throwing insults back and forth with a smile. Comfortable and warm, Sanji would fall asleep using Zoro's arm as a pillow, and wake up to Zoro's snoring around three in the morning. He'd walk from the only bed in the lodge over to the couch, kicking Zoro slightly to make him stop snoring and make some room for the cook too.

This would repeat for the next few days, except Sanji wouldn't let Zoro sleep on the couch more than maybe once.


	5. Meaning of birthday

_11/11, come on. I had to. But a warning: Written in half an hour and very, VERY unbetaed. _

_Happy birthday, shitty swordsman~_

* * *

"Hey. You awake?"

The oddness of the question was almost enough to compel Zoro into answering at first.

It seemed inappropriate. They usually didn't speak to each other after sex, not 'till morning. They hadn't done so in all this time, so why should they start now? Zoro was more than happy just to close his eyes and fall asleep, but Sanji _had_ asked, and that itself was something remarkable.

The cook, however, continued before he could think about it any more.

"No wait, I'll take that back, it was a stupid question. Of course you're not awake."

He was quiet for a second, then continued with an amused voice. "You, the world champion in falling asleep, awake after sex, what the hell was I thinking?"

Another pause.

"It's probably better though. I'd cut off my hands before saying this to your face", Sanji finally said, or more like mumbled, straight against Zoro's neck. "Not this sober, at least."

Sanji's arms circled Zoro's waist and the cook pulled himself against his back. It wasn't unusual for the attention-needy bastard to seek a cuddle, though. Sanji was a natural when it came to mooching off of Zoro's body heat.

There was another pause, which was spent idly as both of them sought a better position.

"Hey."

Zoro almost startled, as Sanji's breath danced over his ear. The blonde was now resting his chin on Zoro's shoulder. His voice was nothing more than an amused whisper now.

"You know? You're really difficult sometimes."

A light kiss was pressed into Zoro's neck.

"Downright impossible."

Zoro suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Sanji's hands around his waist tightened slightly.

"Like today. Hell, like every birthday of yours so far."

Ah. Here it was. Why hadn't Zoro guessed that the obligatory birthday talk had to come at some point?

"You're so stubborn. You never want a party. You don't want presents. You'll just scowl if someone says _happy birthday_ to you."

Voice filled with distaste now, Sanji shook his head, nuzzling Zoro's shoulder in the process.

"You're missing out on the reason we actually celebrate birthdays."

_To remind me that I still haven't reached my goal?_ Zoro thought sourly, but stayed relaxed, still feigning sleep.

"It's because we care."

A hand moved up Zoro's chest to rest on top of his heart.

"It's because we think that your birth, you being here, is something worth celebrating. And to these guys, birthday means that once in a year they can be a real bother about letting you know that."

Zoro could hear Sanji smirk.

"And guess what, shitty swordsman?"

A kiss on the back of his neck, and Sanji was nuzzling his hairline.

"That's the way _we_ like it."

A pause.

"Because you're so difficult sometimes. You know? You really are."

There was a light chuckle against Zoro's shoulder.

"But that's why I love you."

It _was_ inappropriate. The time and the topic, both.

"Love you too."


	6. Kasurikizu

He stands in the shower, water bouncing off his shoulders and sluicing down his arched back. He's bracing himself against the tiles, forehead almost touching them, just standing there.

The first layer of blood is already washing away. Underneath, there's an irregular, loose web of scars, now interlaced with a new set of scratches, bruises, cuts. There's no telling which need bandaging before all the blood is gone.

The water – now lukewarm – steadily washes the blood and the grime away and he tenses slowly as the wounds begin to sting. Later, he won't let it show, but here and now it doesn't matter.

Slowly, he reaches a hand to run through his hair. He looks spent. Fresh blood trickles down his arm and dissolves into the water. Slowly, he slides his hand down from his shoulder, matting the dirt and letting the water brush it away. The wound on his forearm is deep and ragged, sure to leave a scar. A defensive wound, one he got protecting me.

_A scratch_, he'll call it. _Just a scratch._

I step into the shower, but he doesn't acknowledge me. He must be hurting worse than I thought. Discarding my jacket but not bothering to undress, I step under the spray and slide my arms around his waist.

He doesn't turn around, he doesn't push me off. Rather, he just relaxes slightly, leans into my arms. The water cascading down his body begins to soak through my clothes.

"How badly does it hurt?"

He snorts. "They're just scratches."

"You're saying it doesn't hurt?"

"I don't care about the pain."

I tighten my hold. "But I do."

He doesn't answer, just slides my arms off him and turns around, pulling me back against him. His lips press against mine, his hands finding my hips, mine tangling in his hair.

They're just scratches to him. To me, they're much more.

* * *

_(...it's short but it took so long to write D: )_


	7. Sunset horizons

_This was done as a part of an exchange-thingey with my friends. It's a bit long for a drabble but I didn't want to post it in dA nor make it into it's own story._

* * *

Gone.

They were all gone.

Sanji had been spending the past five waking hours trying to comprehend that alone. With little success, as it was.

They were gone. His nakama, his _family_. Luffy, Nami, everyone.

Zoro.

Zoro was gone.

When he had woken up in the hospital, his first thought had been if the swordsman had seen the axe-wielding Marine come up behind him. His first words had been _where are my friends?_

_Are they okay?_

The nurse had given him a sympathetic look and said that there hadn't been any others.

_You were caught in the Marine's crossfire. Remember?_

_No, no_ he insisted and started to get up. He was still clothed. He had only been knocked out. _I was there, with my friend. _He had gestured futilely, and fought back as the nurse tried to restrain him, make him lay down again, with repeated wordings of _sir, calm down, you're still hurt-_

_But what about my friend? _Sanji insisted. _If you found me, you must have found him, too. Where is he_?

_Sir, try to understand. The Marine's had already collected away the bodies-_

It had hit him then.

The Marine's had taken the bodies. _Bodies_. Corpses.

They had killed Zoro.

He had run away then. Unchivalrious as it might have been, he had knocked aside the nurses and ran, out of the building, out to the city, to the docks. That were they had been ambushed. As soon as they had weighed anchor, the Marine's had swarmed them, earth and sea.

He and Zoro had hopped ashore to keep them at bay. He didn't know what had happened to Sunny and the rest of the crew. There had to be a clue in the battlefield.

There hadn't been a battlefield left. The dock had been cleaned, scoured. There weren't even blood splatters left.

He had wandered in a daze down to the beach. For hours on end, he sat there, staring out to the ocean.

They were gone.

Zoro was gone.

_And what is worse_ he was realizing slowly _you never told him_.

* * *

Zoro felt rotten.

He had run away from a fight and left Sanji behind.

He had_ run away_.

He deserved to be hopelessly lost.

After the Marine's had dropped Sanji, he had been at a disadvantage. He couldn't have fought and protected Sanji at the same time, so he took a third option and led the fight away from the cook.

Daring, yes. Stupid, very.

When he had finally securely shaken the Marine forces, he ended up at the shore, utterly lost. After a moment of vicious cursing, he had resolved in washing the Marine blood off and stealing some clothes off a convenient clothes line, and set off in a search of his crew and his cook.

So far he had only been managed to become further annoyed by his own incompetence. He now knew that he should've stayed behind, fight to the _death_ to protect Sanji, if necessary. Instead, he had run away.

_He could even be dead._

_He could've been killed, and all you did was run away._

Zoro felt his stomach lurch highly unpleasantly at the thought, but he trudged on nevertheless.

He needed to find his nakama.

* * *

The file of shore was rather beautiful. The high tide was passing, and the sea was calm, the air was warm. The lone slumped figure on the sand was bathed in the day's last warm sunlight. His shadow stretched along the waterline.

Another shadow approached it, slowly but steadily.

It stopped a few feet shy.

"Well aren't you a grand mess, cook."

The blonde turned, looking like a man who was still half asleep, and looked up to the green-haired man with an empty look.

"Zoro?"

The other twitched his lips into something of a smile.

"Yeah, it's me. Disappointed?"

Sanji's smile was leisurely and disturbing. "I thought they had killed you, you know."

"Well they didn't."

"Right." The blonde turned back towards the ocean. "Right you are."

"Something wrong, cook?"

"Yes. You left me. Went off and got yourself killed. And here we are." He grinned bitterly. "Come to take me along, too?"

Zoro was quiet for a long while. Then he muttered _I don't know what you're talking about, cook _and reached down, and grabbed Sanji's slack hand tightly. "Come on. Decide later if I'm real or not."

Sanji startled and looked up again, looking like he actually saw Zoro for the first time. The swordsman smiled and pulled his hand. "Come on. Let's go find the others."

* * *

_*headdesks* WELL WASN'T THAT CONVOLUTED apologies for not knowing how to do this anymore._


End file.
